Iron Hand
by Verthril
Summary: Oh the Iron Will and the Iron Hand Second Songfic, featuring Logan


Disclaimer : Marvel Owns The X-men, I'm just borrowing them.   
  
  
Dire Straits - Iron Hand   
  
  


  
  
  


_   
with all the clarity of dream   
the sky so blue, the grass so green   
the rank and file and the navy blue   
  
_

A sharp wind blew across the battlefield and through the trenches, stealing the breath of the sleeping, weakening the will of the waking, and giving pause to those as they looked up to the sky, lost to the moment. Off on the horizon bursts of light, dead mans light could be seen, shells battering against the front. The mud had long since grown hard and brittle, frost covering it with the setting of the sun, hope faltering as men prayed to see the morrow. Letters home were being penned by candle light, ink freezing. Written were loving words to wives that may never be, final words of guidance to sons that may grow up without a father, and words of comfort to mothers fearing they may loose their ageless children. Looking to them, the rhythmic sound of the hone against steel, my only prayer would be that I'd bring them home.   
  


_   
the deep and strong, the straight and true   
the blue line they got the given sign   
the belts and boots marched forward in time   
  
_

Silence, a worse pain than any wound, came finally, only the wind dared sound against the weight of the moment. With one last stroke of pen against parchment, they handed off the letters, bonds stronger than steel forged in those moments as the friends staying swore oaths that their loved ones would receive the final words, hand delivered with heavy hearts. In war, the stakes leave few with the indestructible bravado of youth, only the bitter truth that they would not return this time. Looking to them, flames of honor burned in their eyes, burning away the shell of innocence and leaving in the ashes, men.   
  


_   
the wood and the leather the club and shield   
swept like a wave across the battlefield   
now with all the clarity of dream   
  
_

Rifles handed out, pistols holstered, we moved out, biting down hard as the wind blew against us, steeling us for the battle before. The hill rose before us, barbed wire running unto the heavens, a steel bramble patch keeping out the foxes rising from their holes. Victory would be had with the hill taken, defeat only sending more men to their deaths. Looking to my men, I knew come the dawn, the hill would be taken. Crossing the breach, no mans land stretched out before us, a place for only the dead and the dying, not men. Looking about, the day old flesh of friends gone before sat, pain still held upon faces. Never in vain again I heard a man whisper, like a wave of truth coming crashing down upon us all, the words passed through the ranks, drawn back to the sea of denial, silence on the beach one more.   
  


_   
the blood so red, the grass so green   
the gleam of spur on the chestnut flank   
the cavalry did burst upon the ranks   
  
_

Halfway up the hill we paused, men falling as still as the corpses that littered the earth, darkened blood spilled in puddles, a flies feast. Footsteps echoed on the hastily constructed floor of the bunker, a sentry stirred to life by the shadows of the battlefield. Fear welled in our throats, breath caught as the German solider looked down from his citadel, holding death in one hand and life in the other. Edging closer to the machine gun, time slowed as we knew the moment of truth had arrived. Each heartbeat an eternity, a rifle pulled to the ready, aim taken, waiting for that final step, the fury of Hell itself held in the balance as we waited. A step back, the figure gone, only the whispers of our own demons echoing in our ears as our hearts pounded against our chests.   
  


_   
oh the iron will and the iron hand   
in England's green and pleasant land   
no music for the shameful scene   
  
_

Pause given to catch our breath, pounding chests ease, the tide or rage to ebb. Courage given by memories of all that was held in the balance, a love's caress, a mother's hug, a son's respect. Onward, a wave of the hand, order given. Midnight was burning like a wildfire across the land, darkness our only ally, our oldest enemy. Further up the hill we scrambled through the mud, our faces covered in filth of battles past, soil not of our homeland, blood of our kin. Finally we came, the bunker within reach, our goal to be taken. Shouts suddenly came, footsteps slamming against wood, time enough not given. Panic, we would not fail, could not fail. Bullets screaming out of their casings, a hellfire of lead raining upon the ranks, blood spilled.   
  


_   
that night they said it had even shocked the queen   
well alas we've seen it all before   
knights in armour, days for yore   
  
_

The sting of lead in my flesh, the rage rising, the beast thrashing against it's chain. A roar, inhuman and startling. My men were dying, screaming for one of their own to do it. Looking across the battle field I saw him, a kid barely a man, but so much more, still clinging to the package. Risking all, only the rage giving me strength, I burst from the mud, pistol drawn as I charged towards him. Bullets shot into me, rending flesh from bone, but something no longer human carried me on. Picking up the package of explosives, I ran towards the bunker, racing with all the strength the rage gave me. A shout from my men, his dying breath, his last wish, a name. 

"Send them to Hell Sergeant Logan!" The voice cried with the last of his breath, a gunshot fired. 

Their faces held shock, fear as I ran, the German solider trying to turn the machine gun towards me, but not having time. Throwing the package towards them, a shot fired, Hellfire unleashed, the explosion sent me tumbling down the hill, barbed wire tearing at me, ensnaring me. Eyes heavy, I looked up to the fires that burned, another explosion tearing the citadel apart. The world grew dim about me, death calling, my vision hazy. A voice whispered in my ear, concern held. My eyes opened again, the battle field gone, an angel sitting upon my bed, her green eyes filled with love that could never be had. 

"Logan, are you alright?" She asks, I suddenly find myself aware of the fine sheen of cold sweat over me. 

"Just a dream." I whisper, Jean placing a hand upon my shoulder after the breath spent. 

"You sure?" She asks, edging closer. 

"Yeah, just a dream." I bark, rising from my bed and leaving, heading to the only place that can quiet the souls calling to me. 

The sound of an engine roaring to life, tires squealing over the pavement, a figure tearing into the night as if all of hell were chasing him. And at a window of that house, a figure waits, hand upon her heart, another on the window. From the shadows another steps to join her, wrapping his arms about her. Comfort shared. Looking up to the eyes hidden behind glasses of quartz and ruby, a sad smile creeps across her lips. 

"Just a dream, go back to bed Scott, I just need to clear my head." Jean whispers, pressing a kiss to her husbands lips. 

With a nod, he leaves her side, knowing there is nothing he can do to help his love, nor anything she can do to help the man who will forever hold that piece of her heart not open to her husband. As he retired, only the sound of thunder in the distance breaking the silence of the moment, and only the sound of wind tearing through a man's soul upon the open highway, silencing the voices of the dead. 

_   
the same old fears and the same old crimes   
we haven't changed since ancient times   
  
_

  
  
  



End file.
